


Gifts and Secrets

by River_in_Egypt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_in_Egypt/pseuds/River_in_Egypt
Summary: There's a gift too many under the tree ...





	Gifts and Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> I've been so thrilled to have been invited again this year to write for the DHr Advent. Thank you so much to whoever nominated me. I hope I did your expectations justice. 
> 
>  
> 
> Biggest thanks, of course, to my infallible beta, mccargi. I wouldn't know what to do without your support, dear. All remaining mistakes are of course my own.

 

******************

Pansy was pissed off. With Jingle Bells running on repeat, -it was so going to be banned from her house permanently - she felt the opposite of Holiday spirit. 

"Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh…"

Gritting her teeth, she overlooked the 'decked halls' in the Leaky Cauldron, now run by Hannah Abbott. The decorations, albeit not splendid, were nice enough -fairy lights and candles, gave everything a golden glow, a grand tree adorned with baubles and glittering strings sheltered the Secret Santa gifts stacked below, fir branches tied together with red and green bows emitted a Christmassy smell. Still, the company was lacking. Not only were Terry Boot and the Patil twins along with Loony Lovegood, all decked in holiday finery, competing to see who knew more Xmas carols, but Weasel King, the demented oaf who was still cashing in on his glory of being the sidekick of Harry Potter was here too. Unlike the singing and cheering crowd, however, Weaselbee was hunkered in a corner by the tree, being told off by his sister.

"Laughing all the way, ..."

"...and you will behave, Merlin help me, Ron. I'm calling Mum if you so much as utter an inappropriate word to anyone," Ginny hissed at her brother who was about two heads taller than she. Taking after her mother, Ginny was undeterred by the size difference, and Pansy admitted with begrudging admiration that the Weaselette had an excellent hold over her male family members, including her husband. Potter stood next to her, arm around her shoulders–grimacing as if he’d eaten something extremely sour. “Yeah, yeah, you can lay off, she already washed my head last year. I learned my lesson,” Weasley mumbled grumpily, and Pansy found that this kind of humility suited him quite well.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, ..."

To top it off, there were children everywhere, screaming at the top of their voices, high on a Caramel Christmas Candy, Peppermint Toads and Ice Mice induced sugar rush. Their parents either chased after the running minions, creating an additional ruckus, or completely ignored them. Judging by the enormous number of red-heads, more than half the brood were Weasley-related. George and Angelina, at the bar, blissfully ignored anything behind them. Next to them, Percy and Audrey nervously turned around every few seconds, Percy repeatedly trying to rein in his offspring by yelling directions. Nurturing a solid headache, Pansy decided children could wait until she was 105. At least.

If only this song would stop. Pansy was close to hexing the wireless. Turning to the refreshment table, she pondered her spiteful disposition. Was it because there was no other Slytherin present but her? Or because she stood alone in a crowd of family merriment? She didn't mind Potter, really. The war ended eleven years ago, and thanks to Potter's unfathomable effort and ruthless insistence on political correctness, Pansy had a good job and was living on her own. There were incidents here and there, like the infamous one with Weasel King the previous year, when people recognized her family name in association with Voldemort's and called her names unmentionable in polite society, but she had an equal number of people standing up for her in those situations. Like her friend, Hermione. And Neville Longbottom who, Pansy had to admit, had become much more than a fat little cry-baby.

As unlikely as it seemed, Pansy and Hermione Granger had become fast friends several years back when Granger had realized that Pansy was an ace in healing spells and potions. Since their first encounter in the depths of the Ministry Department of Research for Better Healing Alternatives when Pansy's impeccable 'Brackium Emendo' sealed a broken bone back to its former intactness, they had shared many fruitful discussions, developing first mutual respect then friendship. Eventually, Pansy conceded that Hermione Granger was not just a know-it-all nuisance but a force of nature when it came to acquiring knowledge and putting it to use. Pansy was not as snobbish as she put on.When Granger’s initiatives to help the “losers” of the war took care of people, like Pansy’s father, who had suffered greatly the months before the final battle when Voldemort was slowly becoming an unmitigated lunatic, torturing his followers arbitrarily, she was hard put to keep up the façade of pureblood prudery. Pansy even felt some solidarity with Longbottom, whose parents still hadn’t recovered. Granger was on¬ their case, but there wasn’t much hope. Still, the other witch’s determination to fix what many considered a lost cause earned Pansy’s admiration.  
In fact, Hermione Granger was the only reason Pansy had let herself be talked into coming to this abysmal Christmas party where happy Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and their broods abounded. With one parent dead, the other at St. Mungo's, and no boyfriend to speak of, she saw little reason for merriment tonight. 

Not even the colour of the punch cheered her up. It was green. Not the honorable Slytherin colour, but some shiny, sickly green. She was told the punch was made of lime, pineapple, and prosecco, red cranberries swimming in it completed the holiday colour scheme. The taste wasn't so bad, really, but the colour reminded her of ghoul eyes. Filling her cup, she realized that she'd already been three times at the punch bowl, but honestly, there was nothing else to do at this party of happy families. At least, she and Hermione were still blissfully single and could have fun together. If only she’d show up. 

Leaning against the table, watching the bedlam, she only noticed the young wizard joining her when he greeted her. 

"Hello, Parkinson." 

With a start, she turned, recovering quickly. “Longbottom. How’s the purple gentian from Switzerland coming along?”

Neville flushed with excitement. “Marvelous. I’ve got a rocky field in the back of my house it seems to love. We’re going to have a nice harvest in the spring.”

“Good, good, because I’m running low. I’ll be needing more and quickly.”

Pansy was pleased. Longbottom, at least, was always good for a long conversation about qualities and properties of healing plants, something they both deeply cared about. His excitement overnicely-growing batches was contagious; at the same time, Pansy was trying hard to ignore how flustered he was under her attention. She didn't blame him, really, she'd been quite harsh with him and apologizing was not in her repertoire. Slytherin to the core, she couldn't show how embarrassed she was over the juvenile things she'd called him when they were both at Hogwarts and she’d been completely misguided about right and wrong. It was simply not done. However, she appreciated that he could handle it professionally and assumed that, due to her close acquaintance with Hermione, he'd accepted her as an equally-professional colleague. It couldn't go any further than that. Gryffindors and Slytherins simply didn't go together, romantically. Too much animosity.

"... misfortune seemed his lot, we got into a drifted bank, and then we got upsot, oooh, ..."

But they could be friends. Speaking of which, “When might Granger be coming, do you know?”

Still flustered, Neville tried to loosen his collar, then dropped his hand in a hurry. “You know, I was wondering myself where she is. She should have been here by now.”

"She's not sick, is she? I thought I saw her at work today?" Pansy thought Hermione had looked under the weather recently, and she wanted confirmation from Hermione's close friends that she wasn't imagining things.

Neville shook his head. "No, she was at work; I talked to her just after lunch. She told me she would be coming tonight. She was actually looking forward to it. Now that you mention it, she did look a bit green around the gills." He fiddled with his glass in confusion. "But she would have told me if she had gone home. Or at least Harry."

"Hm." Pansy leaned back and took a sip of her punch. Without Granger … Hermione, she was supposed to call her Hermione, Pansy scolded herself. She used to say Granger, a habit picked up from Draco, but since last Xmas, Hermione was very adamant that people not call her Granger at all. Anyway, without Hermione she might as well leave. Longbottom was a nice enough companion, but no replacement for a good chat between women. 

Hermione had made herself scarce since the late summer, gone for a few days here and there, and Pansy missed the chats they used to have. She'd figured this party might be a good occasion to pick that habit up again. But without Hermione ...

"Now the ground is white, go it while you're young, ..."

Right. She would finish her punch and call it a night. There was absolutely no use staying to watch this family mayhem.

Pansy had resolutely downed her last sip and put the empty cup on the table, when her friend stormed in.  
Her impression of Hermione looking under the weather was immediately confirmed. She couldn't have looked any worse if she had a Boggart hot on her heels. Her skin pale, the bags under her eyes as deep and dark, and her hair lanky, she looked quite a fright. Hermione did smile, however, and was immediately welcomed by her friends and swept into lively conversation. Pansy overheard from the other side of the room how Hermione claimed she’d had an urgent fire call at the last minute. Did people have no sense for after-work time, honestly? 

Resisting the urge to rush over, lest she appear needy, Pansy ignored Longbottom's attempts at conversing and watched more or less patiently until Hermione had made the rounds.While waiting, Pansy overheard Ron making scathing remarks about Hermione's size. "Probably had a few Christmas cookies, too, instead of coming to the party. Or a few Eggnogs. Looks a bit pudgy, doesn't she?" he muttered to his sister, receiving a punch in the side.

"Ow," he said angrily, not knowing that Pansy fully agreed with him. Hermione had gone up about a dress size since the fall. Most remarkable was the growth of her chest. Usually boyish slim, Hermione looked positively curvy. Pansy would have to ask later whether Hermione had dabbled with a new potion. 

Pansy had completely forgotten that Longbottom was still next to her until he spoke. "She looks unwell and well at the same time, doesn't she?" Pansy shot him a look indicating that he didn't know the first thing about women and not to pretend he did. He turned tail under her glare and slunk toward the bar. Pansy heard him order a butterbeer and Hannah's laughing reply to something he mumbled, and felt a tad sorry. After all, now she stood here alone again, for another few minutes, until Hermione finally came to her, giving her a hearty hug.

"Pansy, how are you?"

"Better, now that you're _finally_ here." Pansy didn't hold back her sarcastic tone. “How could you leave me alone at this party of families?”

Hermione had the sense to look guilty. "I'm really sorry, I meant to be here an hour ago, but that fire call couldn't be postponed." Under Pansy's probing gaze, Hermione offered a wan smile and looked away again. Pansy couldn't shake the feeling that her friend was rather frazzled and would rather not be here. Call it Slytherin intuition, but Pansy always knew when she was being deceived. Judged by the very short talks Hermione’d had since coming in, she must have more urgent things to do. Now, Hermione was known for her stringent work ethics, but she wouldn't forego an evening with friends over it. 

Before Pansy could inquire, Potter loudly clapped his hands. "Now, that we're all here, let's get started with our Secret Santa exchange before the children conk out or go completely insane." To the agreeing laughter from all parents, and less excited smiles from non-parents everybody moved closer to the tree and the stack of gifts. 

 

Picking up package by package, the room was soon filled with Ooohs and Aaaahs from the gifted and even Pansy was surprised at the effort some gift givers had made: Potter received an initialed snitch, Weasel King an autograph from every player of the Chudley Cannons, and his brother Percy a self-writing forms parchment. Hermione received a very nice quill from Terry Boot, who blushed when she thanked him profusely. They were both single, Pansy noted drily, and it was clear that he had hoped for a more elaborate gratitude, like a dinner date. He was disappointed, however, as Hermione turned immediately to Parvati next to him, opening her gift and discovering a specially made hair potion, courtesy of Hermione herself.  
Pansy was distracted when Hannah force-hugged her over the gifted Weird Sisters tickets.  
"They must have cost a fortune, Pansy, how could you?" Hannah exclaimed.  
Pansy waved it off. "No, actually, my cousin is their manager, she just gave them to me." Hannah's squeal was enough to turn milk sour.  
In turn, Pansy received a wonderful specimen of Bubotuber, and she immediately knew it was Longbottom's handiwork. "Merlin, Longbottom, you shouldn't have! This healthy plant is worth more than a month's wage," she exclaimed to the laugh of the crowd.  
Neville blushed again. "Oh, go on. I've got a whole batch of them. They like it in my basement, they grow like crazy."  
Luna's comment while linking her arm under his, "Neville's too modest to laud his own talent," went almost unheard over Angelina's cry: "Ooh, Ginny, the new self-stirring quick-pot - thank you so much. You know how I am with stews. George will ever be so grateful."

With everybody busy unpacking and laughingly comparing and rejoicing at their gifts, James Potter crawled under the tree and then asked loudly, "Daddy, there's a gift left. Can I open it?"

A surprised Potter took the gift,wrapped in white with stamped golden forms, from his son and the din in the room died down, curious heads turning to him. "No, James, it's not for you. But who's is it?"

"For Hermione" croaked a baby toad on the wrapping paper. As soon as it spoke, all the other cute little baby beings on the wrapping came to life, wriggling, squirting, oozing, warbling, bleating, peeping, blabbing, you name it. Startled by the sounds, Harry almost dropped the package before George had the presence of mind to _Silencio_ the whole cute brood. Harry motioned with the silenced package for Hermione to come forward and open the gift. Pansy could have sworn that Hermione had startled and gulped loudly before taking one step toward her friend, then another, and another. Pushing it in her hands, Hermione ignored Harry's questioning look and ripped the paper off without further delay. Inside was a beautifully-carved wooden box with gold and silver inlays, a treasure chest for heirlooms and precious items.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, thank you, whoever gave me this gift. It's a really beautiful box. I know just the place for it in my living room."

George laughed, catching her deterrence. "If you think you can get around opening it ..." He ignored her deer-in-the headlight look and offered his guess of what might be inside. "Perhaps it's just a bottle of good wine from an admirer." His wife hooked her arm under his and laughed equally. "Sure, George, a bottle of wine in a wrapping with magical babies."

Hannah had picked up the shred of wrapping paper and was heard saying, “This is a very rare paper. I’ve never seen it before.”

“Pollecoff’s Parchmaster & Vellum,” Pansy murmured from her side of the crowd. “You get it on special order only.” When everybody looked at her wide-eyed, she added with a shrug, “My mother had some, for special gifts.”

"Well, that narrows the sample of potential givers, doesn't it, Hermione?" Luna piped up.

'Yes,' thought Pansy, together with everyone else in the room. They only ordered for pureblood families. 

The din took up again with everybody hazarding a guess of the contents of the box. Pansy, on the other hand, didn't even need to see what was in it, catching the hint from the wrapping paper.When Hermione finally opened it to disclose a white baby dress for the name-giving ceremony and a pricelessly-delicate silver rattle, she wasn't surprised. Exchanging one shocked glance with Longbottom at the bar, she realized it all made sense; Hermione's absences, her weight gain, and her sickly look.

By Circe, Granger was pregnant. And Pansy would be damned if she didn’t find out the father. 

 

*********************************************************************

 

Granger's cottage looked as cosy as ever from the fire place entrance. The candles were lit, the living room was Christmas-decorated, and the smell of homemade cookies hung in the air. 

Stepping out, Pansy heard Hermione arguing in the den while she dusted herself off and straightened her cloak. Before she could take more than two steps, however, she was bumped from behind. 

"Oompf."

"Oh, my apologies, I didn't know ..."

Pansy turned around quickly. "Longbottom! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, in a vehement whisper. Neville looked sheepishly around the living room under her glare.

"Well, you left so suddenly after Hermione's hasty exit, so I thought, maybe a Slytherin has ...," he stopped himself mid-sentence and then continued immediately, "... Harry was set to come and I thought it better not to let one of her best friends barge in and make her situation even more difficult. I convinced him to stay and smother any gossip and said I would go and ..." He trailed off, when he realized that Pansy was grimly smiling at him.

"Good thinking," she conceded. "Now, how about we close the Floo and make our way to Hermione's den to see if she needs any help, then?"

He nodded, a little flabbergasted at her praise, but scrambled to his feet to follow her. Perhaps due to the fact that they hadn't been invited, exactly, and that Hermione had left the party as if hunted by Furies, and that she was now yelling vivid accusations at the top of her voice, Pansy decided it was better to check out the situation before making her presence known. Neville immediately copied her Silencing charm on his feet and together they snuck to the door.

At first, Hermione’s back and hair covered the whole view and they couldn't see over her dramatic gestures who else was in the room. 

"What were you thinking? I wasn't even sure, how and when to tell, IF to tell…maybe I would decide not to have it, it didn't look like pregnancy was really agreeing with me. I'm surprised that nobody found out before now, and then you go and make it known, WITHOUT my consent I might add, to all and sundry ...what in Merlin's name made you think you could take the decision out of my hands ..." The sound of Hermione's rant blasted through the door.

Pansy and Neville debated using gestures whether to interrupt by knocking or to stay quietly on the other side of the door and try to get a glimpse of the father, because that's who Pansy assumed was sitting across from her friend, before barging in. Pansy was for storming in, Neville was against it. His wide-eyed head-shake made Pansy hold back, angrily. Yes, this could be a very embarrassing situation. What if the father was an international VIP? Hermione had acquaintances with political clout due to her job at the Ministry and trade-agreements made over the years.

The father of the child, however, must have been a patient man because he didn't interrupt once and let Hermione vent. When her voice broke at the end of the last sentence, however, he got up and took her gently in his arms, and in the shine of the subtle denlight his white-blond hair gave his identity away.

Pansy was so shocked she’d have fallen into the door if Neville hadn’t caught her, pulling her up and back, closer to his body, as if to protect her. Pansy was surprised how strong yet gentle his hands held her and how quickly he’d reacted, as if he really cared for her. Turning to him, she saw him mouthing ‘Malfoy' unnecessarily and nodded her dazed confirmation. As if she wouldn't recognize him, her childhood companion whom she hadn't seen in years. He'd disappeared from Britain after the war, completely severed any contact, and was lost to his old friends. How in the world did Hermione know him now, and know him so well, that is to say, erm, intimately?  
"Calm down, Granger. Hermione. Shhhh, you're harming the baby if you get so upset. I'm not leaving you alone with this. I'll stand to my responsibility. What do you think I am, a selfish git?" Pansy heard him mumble into Hermione's hair, while gently holding her shaking body. 

"Pretty much, yes," Neville mumbled under his breath, earning him a push from Pansy. "Isn't he, then?" he protested, still quietly.  
"Well, yes," Pansy whispered back, still incensed that Hermione had been in touch with her Slytherin friend before he had gotten in touch with his older friends. "But he's obviously not shirking his responsibility. Cut him some slack, will you? He’s doing the right thing," she exclaimed. Perhaps too loudly, because the door was ripped open a moment later.

“Hullo, Pansy. Longbottom.”

Having leaned against the door, they both stumbled in when the counterweight vanished. Pansy realized that Longbottom was still holding on to her and made a quick sidestep out of his embrace. Looking at the odd couple, Hermione’s face hidden in his chest, and her hair reaching up to Malfoy’s chin, Pansy directed her attack at her old schoolfriend. 

“Draco! Where the heck have you been? What were you doing? Since when are you back and why didn’t you call any of us?”

“So good to see you again, too, Pansy. I’m well, how have you been? I was in Switzerland, having a comfortable life, when Granger here,” he nodded at the witch in his arms, “stumbled over me. I’ve been back here since the summer, but I didn’t want to call before I made myself at home again. That took longer than I thought. And then, there was Granger, here.” He left the last thought unspoken: Granger, here, who wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be his girlfriend or not.

“I had a few things to distract me,” he finished firmly. “And then, I believe, we had a misunderstanding about what would be the appropriate time to announce my return.”

“I didn’t expect you to throw a party upon your arrival, but couldn’t you at least have sent me an owl? Just a ’Hey, there, missed me?’” Pansy was shaking in anger and hardly noticed that Longbottom put a calming and potentially restraining hand on her shoulder. She only saw Malfoy’s eyebrow going up looking at her shoulder and then smirk at the wizard behind her. So typical Malfoy, behaving as if he could do no wrong.

In her anger, she turned to her girlfriend. “And you, Hermione, why in the world didn’t you protect yourself? I mean that’s the stupidest mistake in a magical world, unwanted pregnancy. And I didn’t think you were stupid.”

She didn’t listen to Longbottom’s reprimanding, “Pansy”, nor Draco’s sharp intake of breath. However,she softened immediately when Hermione replied desperately from Draco’s arms, “I didn’t think it was necessary yet, I miscalculated my days.We only saw each other infrequently, and when our days together took longer than originally planned I simply forgot. It was my birthday and we had a wonderful day and … I become a bit scatterbrained around Draco when we enjoy our time,” she finished with a small voice. 

Draco’s smile was enough to light up the room, Neville felt. He’d never seen a Malfoy so, well, happy, and he wouldn’t soon forget this exceptional expression. He wasn’t sure if he would ever see it again. If only all Slytherins were capable of such a happy smile. He doubted they were, but figured it would suit Pansy very nicely. He’d seen her delight over managing a complicated potion and laughing with Hermione. He’d decided then she couldn’t be all bad. Besides, he _had_ been a fat cry-baby in his youth; and her teasing was one of the reasons he’d shaped up. He figured he would do well with a witch who knew exactly what she wanted but also respected his work. And if Malfoy and Hermione could get together, all bets were off. Nothing was impossible anymore. Slytherin and Gryffindor was no longer unimaginable.

He was so deep in thought, about the dark-haired witch next to him, that he almost missed Hermione recovering her faculties and posing the most important question. “All I need to know is,why make it so public so soon?”

Malfoy snorted in reply. “Would you have believed me if I’d said, yes, sure, let’s have that baby, before your friends even know that we’ve been dating for half a year? You hide me like a dirty secret. We meet secretly, in secluded places. Certainly, in the beginning I didn’t mind taking things slowly, but the more time progressed the more you didn’t seem ready for a full-blown, out-in-the-open relationship. And I thought it was time to disclose it.”

“Bold move, my friend,” Pansy remarked sarcasticly. “Not at all sly.You’re becoming more and more Gryffindor by the day.”

“Before you were starting to show, I mean,” Draco continued with an evil glance at Pansy, which she gave back with a vengeance, “It was only a matter of time before any experienced witch would have seen it, and I’d rather do it on my terms than Potter’s. Or Weasley’s, any of them.”

Neville had to laugh. That was more like Malfoy, protecting himself and his reputation, especially when Ron or Harry were involved. But Malfoy was immediately distracted again when Hermione pulled his head back to face her. 

“How? When?” she asked.

Malfoy’s thin-lipped smile reminded Neville strongly of the Malfoy of old.“Granger, I’m the only heir of an ancient, rich, pureblood family. I know how to do a pregnancy check.” Hermione blushed deeply. Draco continued seriously. “And when you withdrew a few weeks after our outing to Cornwall for your birthday I knew something was afoot.”

Hermione shoulders sank with the revelation that she had been found out.

Draco took her face. “Did you think I’d throw you over the fence like a gnome? Children are a reason to rejoice. The magic will live on, especially important for pureblood families.”

“But I’m not pureblood,” Hermione mumbled, lowering her face again.

Draco shrugged. “So, we’ll mix it up a bit. Maybe it was time, and we were starting to go a bit insane? Too much inbreeding?”

Pansy snorted. “You can say that out loud.”

When Hermione still hesitated, Draco pulled her up again. “My mother would have been thrilled, for any child born to the Malfoys. There was a reason they were so protective of me. Did you ever notice that most of us don’t have many siblings? Ever wondered why? And no, the Weasleys don’t count as a counterexample.” He ended with a smirk and when she laughed through tears of relief, he kissed her.

That was the point when Pansy turned her back on them. When Neville still watched, mesmerized, as the kiss grew hotter and hotter and the lovers slowly moved over to the armchair in the corner with Hermione climbing into Draco’s lap, Pansy cleared her throat and grabbed his hand firmly. Two seconds later, she had closed the door behind them, and they stood outside in the falling snow in front of Hermione’s cottage fence, puffing in the cold air.

There were a few carol singers in the distance, their “Si-hilent night, ho-oly night” and the joy of the people listening drifting over with the snow. Pansy stared out in the darkness, caught in the moment. The carols sounded so normal, and yet everything was so different, as if the world had shifted. Draco and Hermione, who'd have thought?

Only when the wizard next to her wiped a tickly snowflake from his nose, did she remember that she was not alone.

“So, Longbottom, do you also need to boost your reputation by dating a former Slytherin Princess of sorts?” she said sassily.

Neville laughed out, rare as it was, at her perverted truth, his eyes lighting up in delight, his mouse-brown hair falling playfully sideways. Pansy liked that look, it gave his round face some needed edge. She smiled at his amusement, thinking how different he looked from his usual seriousness. She couldn’t help imagining, and liking, the thought of him bent over plant trays, earmuffs framing his round face, lovingly tying Mandrake seedlings to stakes with firm but gentle hands. 

“Hardly,” he answered with a broad grin. “I’m the Snake Decapitator, remember? But when I saw you make the Murtlap essence the other day …” His gaze turned distant, remembering. “… how your nimble fingers shook and turned the flask...” He stopped, flushing deeply. 

‘Well, I’ll be,’ Pansy thought. Great minds and such. The mental focus on his gentle hands became stronger and she only realized that she'd been staring at his mouth when he cleared his throat before asking, “Would … would you care for a drink, Parkinson? To wash down that shock of Malfoy and Hermione?”

Pansy shivered in anticipation. The image of Draco and Hermione snogging fresh on her mind, a Firewhisky would be just the thing. Or two or three. She took Neville’s arm to his surprise. 

“Certainly, Longbottom. Something strong would be preferred.”

Longbottom grinned shyly. “I’ve got just the thing at home. And call me Neville, please.”

“Lead the way, my good man,” Pansy replied with a smirk. “And I may just show you other ways my nimble fingers can handle equipment - Neville.”

Perhaps here was another gift for her, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. My prompt was, you may have guessed it, esteemed reader, "Secret Santa". Merry Christmas, y'all.
> 
> My deepest apologies if there are any word-mergers left in the text. I went through several times.


End file.
